Harry Potter and the Pillars of Truth
by Vasaris the Fuzzy Dragon
Summary: Seventh year has come and the final battle is approaching. Rating for later chapters. HPSS, RWHG, other pairings possible. Prequel for The Mathematician's Premise.
1. Chapter One: Resignation and Defiance

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned the characters. Harry would have relatives who cared for him and Snape would have some closure. Alas, they are not mine. They belong to JKR, Scolastic, WB, etc.**

sighs

Feedback is good. Constructive Criticism is excellent. Adoration is always welcomed.

**Harry Potter and the Pillars of Truth**

"I'm afraid that you will have to return to the Dursley's once more Harry."

Harry Potter regarded the benevolent twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes with cynicism.

"Of course, Headmaster." In the aftermath of Voldemort's aborted attack on Hogsmead, it had become increasingly evident that the blood magic that his mother had used to protect him had long since expired, but as he was not yet of age, there was little Harry could do to avoid his erstwhile guardians. He smiled thinly. "How long will I have to stay?"

Dumbledore steepled his hands, pressing his forefingers against his lips. "Hmmm. As you know, you need to stay at least a couple of weeks to renew the magic --" Harry snorted quietly "-- but it would be wise to stay longer."

The rest of the summer, Dumbledore meant. Grimmauld Place had long since been abandoned as Order headquarters, for there could be little doubt that Kreacher's betrayal of them to Narcissa Malfoy had alerted Voldemort of their location. Harry knew that there was some other location, protected under the _Fidelius_, that the Order used, but it was small and had no accommodations for one orphaned young man… or so he had been told the previous summer.

"I'll be leaving on my birthday."

"Harry, that would not be wise."

"Headmaster, I have no idea how you kept Vernon Dursley from turning me out the moment I turned sixteen, but my aunt is well aware that the age of majority in the Wizarding World is seventeen. I strongly suspect that if I do not leave on my own, they will cheerfully throw me out at midnight on the thirty-first of July." Harry barely controlled the sneer that wanted to crawl across his lips. "In fact, I expect that this will be one birthday party that the lot of them won't miss."

"Harry, I know that there are problems with your relatives, but surely you can manage to rub along together well enough for one last summer?"

"Respectfully, Headmaster, you have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

"Harry…"

"Not to worry, Headmaster, I'll manage well enough without your help." Harry stared at him for a moment. "It's not as if I've ever had it in the Muggle world anyway."

"Mr. Potter, if you insist on leaving your relatives, some other arrangements will have to be made."

"I am well aware of that, Headmaster. As I will be seventeen, however, you'll just have to accept that I am capable of seeing to them myself." Harry glanced at the clock. "I had best be going, if I am to make it to the Hogwarts Express. Good day, Headmaster."

With that, Harry walked out of the Headmaster's office, head held high. He passed Snape on the stairs and ignored the patented sneer sent his way. Ron and Hermione were waiting with the last of the coaches and Harry smiled. "Ready to go?"

"Mate, am I ever. One last summer."

Hermione cuffed him on the back on the head. "Really."

"No, he's right. After this…" Harry did not have to elaborate. After this, there would be no more carefree summers, or summers as carefree as they got. If Voldemort did not stage his annual attack, then the future held nothing but war, and if he did… well, the odds of any of them surviving were small.

Hermione sighed. "I know, Harry."

"Of course you do, Hermione. You know just about everything."

The bushy-haired girl -- no, young woman -- laughed. "Not yet, but I am trying."

"We know," said Ron, in a long-suffering tone. "But we love you anyway. Get in the carriage."

"You're not the boss of me, Ron Weasley."

"Not yet, anyway."

Harry glanced down at Hermione's hands, noting a new adornment.

"There something I should know?" he asked as he clambered up into the carriage.

Ron blushed redder than his hair. "Um…"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a promise ring, we're not officially engaged yet."

"Mum'd have a fit if she knew…"

"Never mind your mum. She'd be thrilled, especially since the rest of the boys show no signs of marrying and Percy --" Ron winced and she veered away from that subject, which Harry thought was wise. "In any case, _my_ parents would be less than happy if they knew I was even thinking about getting married."

"Whyfor?" Ron looked confused. "Sixteen's perfectly normal for courtship."

"For _wizards_ Ron. Muggle girls don't typically marry so young, not anymore."

Ron boggled. "You're _joking_."

Hermione opened her mouth, but shut it again when Harry _looked_ at her. As they'd grown older the social differences between the Wizarding and Muggle worlds had become much more evident. Now was probably not the time to discuss such radical issues as feminism and reproductive rights. Magic made so many things possible that sometimes they forgot just how different the Muggle world was… it wasn't just electricity and technology.

The carriage rolled to a stop just as the conductor was making the last call and the three of them rushed for the train.


	2. Chapter Two: All Aboard!

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned the characters. Harry would have relatives who cared for him and Snape would have some closure. Alas, they are not mine. They belong to JKR, Scolastic, WB, etc.**

sighs

Feedback is good. Constructive Criticism is excellent. Adoration is always welcomed.

**Harry Potter and the Pillars of Truth**

Chapter Two

It took more effort than Harry expected to fight through the corridor of the Hogwarts Express to find a compartment with friendly faces, even if they were attached at the lip.

"Christ, Neville, don't the two of you ever stop?" Luna Lovegood made for a rather large, pale barnacle hanging off of her boyfriend's lips. Neville flipped him off, which Harry rather thought was a good sign. The hesitant boy he had met first year had become a strong and confident young man in the past year. Privately, Harry thought that no longer being in potions with the sarcastic -- and sadistic -- Potions Master had quite a bit to do with that.

"Harry, get out of the doorway." Hermione's gruffness propelled him across the threshold. She groaned as she came in. "God, Luna. I can't decide which is worse, your damn Snorkacks or seeing you explore Neville's tonsils."

"Mine could use a good bathing…"

"Ron!"

Harry laughed. "A dark and dangerous expedition, that, tonsil bathing."

"Last I heard, you just called it 'wet,'" snarked Ron.

"Yeah, well, there hasn't been much time for snogging, has there?"

Ron blushed and Hermione sighed.

"Sorry, mate."

Harry punched him in the shoulder. "Not to worry. I've got more important things to worry about than swapping body fluids."

"There isn't anything more important than swapping body fluids," said Luna, somewhat dreamily after the soft _pop_ of her mouth separating from Neville's. "Especially now."

The five of them went silent. Luna's whimsical truths were like that, sometimes. Voldemort had attacked Hogsmeade on the last student weekend of the year, killing several students and the current DADA professor. If not for the members of the Defense Association, far fewer students and residents of the town would have made it to the safety of the Castle grounds, and Hogsmeade itself would almost certainly have been burned to the ground.

Since then, many of the members of the DA had turned to an almost frantic couple-hood, with several engagements (and at least one clandestine marriage) announced. Harry wondered, vaguely, if that was part of what had impelled his parents to marry young and produce him so quickly, the knowledge that there might well be no other chance.

Darwin, he supposed, would have had a field day.

"Um. Right." Harry rather liked Luna, but her vague smile at Neville was creepy. Inquiries on whether they'd gotten to swapping anything other than spit were probably a bad idea. "So, what's everyone going to do for the summer?"

Ron glanced at Hermione. "Well… Hermione and her parents are going to come visit us for a while."

Neville pulled a bit away from Luna, to glance at him in surprise. "They are? You two are that serious?"

Hermione scowled. "It's not about _that_, Neville. I can't Ward my parents until my birthday --"

"Fucking ministry."

"Language, Ron."

"Well? You've got another term for it? Just because we've decided to pursue our NEWTS shouldn't be enough reason for them to refuse to let you do enough magic to protect your parents from the red-eyed snake that walks like a man."

Luna choked. "Do you mind if I use that?"

"Wha-?"

"I'm writing some articles for my father, and I just love 'red-eyed snake that walks like a man' for Voldemort."

Ron and Neville flinched.

"Honestly, Ron." Hermione looked at her boyfriend. "Voldemort, Voldemort, Volde--" she stopped. "Do you suppose he's like Beetlejuice and shows up if you say it three times?"

Harry stared at her blankly for a moment and then laughed, remembering a video of Dudley's that he'd watched once on the sly. "Wouldn't that be useful? Then we'd only have to do it again to make him go away."

They looked at one another, grinning. "Damn."

"Mate, what're you talking about?"

"Oh, it's a Muggle thing about…" Hermione stopped and the oddest smile crossed her face. "We'll bring the VCR and the tape and see if we can't get it to run at your house. Your dad would love it."

"Molly's going to kill you, you know that, right?"

"And maybe I'll bring a beginning science text… you know, one for little kids, the kind that tries to explain where electricity comes from and that it's not just magic that comes out of the wall?" Hermione's face was almost as beatific as Luna's was when she talked about mythical creatures. "Wouldn't that be fun?"

Ron stared at her in horror. "Hermione, love, you've _got_ to be kidding me! Mum'll _kill_ you."

"Whatever for? Educating your father so he'll at least be nattering on about something he knows about?"

"Wull, yes, actually." Ron's gaze turned pleading. "Please, Hermione, he'll never shut up if you actually tell him about elkticity."

"Electricity, Ron. And it's tele_phone_. Honestly, I don't understand how people with a fairly thorough grounding in Latin can't understand how such words are constructed. Speaking over a distance… Oh, never mind."

Wise of her to be able to recognize when her boyfriend's eyes had begun to glaze over from a familiar argument. It was one that Harry never got involved in because Ron really didn't need them to gang up on him. That and it was fun to watch the fire in Hermione's eyes bounce off the glazed indifference in Ron's.

Neville watched the two of them in interest. "You know, Ron, it might be a good idea for you and your family to have a better grounding in Muggle affairs if you really intend to marry Hermione."

"Of course I intend to marry her!" Ron's gaze was suddenly fierce. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Peace, Ron." Luna's gaze turned sharp. "We all know you love her. It's just that Hermione comes from a different world than the one you grew up in. Don't you think you should know more about it?"

"I…" Ron stared at his hands. Harry and Hermione frowned, practically in unison.

"Ron?"

"I… I've been Dreaming, okay?"

Harry heard the capital letter -- one that had begun to appear as Ron had actually advanced into NEWT Divination.

Hermione's hand lifted, gently cupping his chin and forcing him to look at her. "You don't think you need to know about the Muggle world, do you?"

Ron stared at her. "No. I won't."

"Nothing is held so fast that it can't be changed, Ron," Luna said softly.

"Perhaps not." Ron's eyes closed. "But I know what I see, and it varies little from night to night. I just wish I knew _when_."

"Divination is terribly imprecise." There was no mockery in Hermione, not the way there had been when they were younger. "Are you sure?"

"We've time and time, Hermione. Time enough and time too little. I just… want to enjoy the time we have."

Luna nodded and then looked at Neville. "See, I _told_ you that there's nothing more important than a little exchange of bodily fluids."

They all laughed.

"What about you, Harry?"

"I've got a plan, which the Dursley's have little enough part in. I'll be of age soon, and not even Dumbledore can force me to stay there." A wicked little smile edged Harry's mouth. "I plan on having an… educational summer."

"One where you can actually do your homework? Study for NEWTs?"

Typical Hermione. Harry grinned. "Study, anyway. Hey, Neville, I've been meaning to ask, your parents were Aurors, right?"

Neville nodded, face suddenly grim.

"Did they leave any textbooks behind? Do you know?"

"I don't, but Gran will…" Neville grinned. "Oh, it's like that, is it?"

"Even if you could just send me the titles…"

"Probably the best choice… how's this -- I'll see if I can get the titles _and_ go to Diagon Alley to see if I can pick up some updates?"

"Oh!" Hermione looked jealous.

"Hermione, it'll be okay. I'd like to invite you all to my birthday party. It'll be on the thirty-first of July. I'll owl you with further details, shall I?"

"Harry, Dumbledore --"

"I don't much care what Dumbledore thinks."

"Really?" came the aristocratic drawl from the doorway. "I find that rather unlikely, Potter. You and Weasel and Mudblood spend a lot of time on your bellies for him."

Harry snorted, not even bothering to look at the slight blond he knew was standing in the doorway.

"Malfoy, I think you have me confused with the cretins who give up their bellies to the --" he glanced at Ron "-- red eyed snake that walks like a man. I'm a lot of things, but a whining cur offering up his throat to a madman isn't one of them. Fortunate, since it means that I'll never be put down like a rabid dog, right, Malfoy?"

"You filthy, mudblooded son-of-a-whore!"

Hermione's wand was out and pressed lightly against Malfoy's forehead, stopping his forward lunge. Harry hadn't even seen her move.

"What was that, oh gloriously pureblooded one?" she asked sweetly. She'd been kicking his ass in DADA on a weekly basis since sixth-year started.

She'd also killed with the wand gently pointed between Malfoy's pale-pale eyes.

"Bitch."

"Prize of my litter, Malfoy. Back up." Her grip on her wand changed. "NOW."

"I don't take orders --"

"From Mudblood filth, yes, yes, yes. I'll only repeat this once more, Malfoy. Move." Chocolate-dark eyes glittered, feral. "Now."

"I'll get you."

"You and Dr. Claw."

Harry laughed. Everyone else looked bewildered.

"The Dark Lord knows who you are, Granger. I wouldn't be so cavalier."

"You haven't got the swashbuckling moves to _be_ a cavalier, Malfoy, so I wouldn't worry about your deficiency." Hermione smiled. "But tell Voldemort that I know who _he_ is, too, next time you see him. I'm sure he'll be thrilled."

"Her_mione_."

"Shut it, Ron."

"Yes, do 'shut it,' Weasel." Malfoy backed away from her wand. Hermione kicked him in the balls, sending him to the floor while holding off his thugs at wand-point.

"Keep silent, Malfoy, in the presence of your betters."

Harry gaped. Luna tittered. Neville simply appeared bored, his wand out and dangling idly from his fingers.

Ron looked besotted. It wasn't a good look on him.

"You tell Vol-de-Mort that I am Hermione Jane Granger, Muggleborn witch. You tell him that I stand against him and everything he stands for. I stand with Harry Potter for what is right and what is just. Dumbledore and the Ministry can kiss my ass and thank me for the privilege."

Malfoy vomited on her shoes.

"Ewww."

_"Sano,"_ mumbled Harry, removing the stench of Malfoy's last meal. He glanced at Malfoy's thugs. "Get him out of here. He appears to be a bit… indisposed."

Goyle stared at him for a moment. _"Mobilicorpus."_

Malfoy rose from the floor and drifted out. Hermione shut the door and warded it.

"We should have thought of that before."

Harry shrugged. He didn't really have any privacy, so there was little point in worrying about it.

"Hermione… What the fuck do you think you were doing?"

"Hmmm?" Hermione was staring at the door with an odd look on her face. She glanced back at Ron. "What?"

"Are you insane? You just challenged Voldemort."

"So I did." She looked at Harry. "'First they came for the Jews/and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew…'"

"…and then they came for me/and there was no one left to speak for me."

Harry stared at Luna in surprise.

"Just because it's a Muggle poem," Luna huffed.

Hermione laughed. "Ravenclaw."

"Yes. I was curious about this man called Hitler…" Luna looked at Ron. "He was very like the Dark Lord."

"And for as little reason," Hermione agreed. "People did not speak out, and were cut down."

"Lord, it's S.P.E.W. all over again!"

"No Ron." Hermione shook her head. "Do you remember what I used this for, in Hogsmeade?"

Hermione held up her wand.

"You protected the retreat of the third-years."

"I killed." Hermione took a deep breath. "I used the practice that we did in the DA on aiming our curses and deliberately severed a man's head from his body."

Ron stared at her. "I thought that was an accident."

"No. It wasn't."

Harry nodded. He too had used normally painful -- but non-lethal -- curses to kill that day. He wondered if Hermione had the same nightmares he did about it.

"Something you might want to remember, if you really do want to marry me. I can and will kill. I am not so nice and pretty that I will just stand by. I will speak. I will kill. And I probably will die." She stared at him. "But I will not go silently. I will not be rounded up and executed whenever that monster gets around to it."

Neville and Luna stared at her and then at Harry.

"My name is Luna Lovegood, and I stand with Harry Potter."

"My name is Neville Longbottom, and I stand with Harry Potter."

The two looked at Ron.

"Of course I stand with Harry. Where the hell else would you find me?"

With that, they all cracked up and talked about inconsequential things until the train pulled in to London.

-----

Author's note:

The exchange between Luna and Hermione comes, of course, from Pastor Martin Niemoller's poem:

**First they came for the _Jews_  
and I did not speak out--because I was not a _Jew_.  
Then they came for the _communists_  
and I did not speak out--because I was not a _communist_.  
Then they came for the _trade unionists_  
and I did not speak out--because I was not a _trade unionist_.  
Then they came for _me_--  
and there was _no one left_ to speak out for _me_.**

As taken from: 

scott . hayes . org / thoughts / niemoller.html

Thank you for the reviews.


	3. Chapter Three: The Bumpy Ride Home

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned the characters. Harry would have relatives who cared for him and Snape would have some closure. Alas, they are not mine. They belong to JKR, Scholastic, WB, etc.**

sighs

Feedback is good. Constructive Criticism is excellent. Adoration is always welcomed.

**Harry Potter and the Pillars of Truth**

Chapter Three

It was, Harry thought, oddly melancholic to watch the mini-reunions of his friends with their families -- even Neville's, as he was introducing the shyly blushing Luna to his formidable Gran. Luna's father looked on with fondly approving eyes, and Harry strongly suspected that the two would be officially engaged by the end of summer. Molly Weasley was, as her norm, enthusiastically hugging her children and just about anyone else in her range. Arthur, it seemed, was busy at the Ministry -- spying for Dumbledore, no doubt, although Harry knew that was an unworthy thought -- and the twins had sent their apologies along, because business was brisk and they had a number of experiments waiting to explode upon them at any moment.

The Doctors Granger were typically more reserved than their Weasley counterpart. Harry saw the sharp glance Hermione's mother gave her when she saw the ring upon her daughter's finger. Hermione leaned in close; her manner reassuring and she unobtrusively moved the ring from her ring finger to her middle finger. No point in getting Molly Weasley's hopes up too soon, Harry supposed, as the two families merged together.

"You all right, Harry?" Dr. Granger -- Hermione's father, in this case, asked.

"I'm fine, sir." Harry smiled up at him. The Dursley's had not yet arrived, which came as no real surprise to Harry. "I'm sure that Aunt Petunia will be along soon."

"Those terrible Muggles," Molly muttered, flushing slightly when Dr. Granger turned to her. "Well, they are!"

"Mum!" Ron was as scarlet as his hair.

Dr. Granger shrugged. "I'd say that they do seem to be -- ah, I believe that's your aunt now. Are you sure you'll be okay, Harry?"

"Quite." Dr. Granger's eyes were much like Hermione's, and he could see the man's genuine concern. "I'll be fine sir."

Dr. Granger dug around in his pocket for a moment. "Harry, if you have any problems, call us, will you? We're not sure that my cell phone will work at the Weasley's, but if you call the office number, they'll be able to contact us immediately."

For a moment, tears actually pricked at Harry's eyes before he willed them away. He'd never considered that Hermione's parents could be a resource for him in the Muggle world -- probably because they always seemed to be going abroad on vacation, although that was never for the whole of the summer months.

"Thank you, Dr. Granger."

"There you are, you --" Aunt Petunia stopped her tirade when she saw the Grangers, quite respectably dressed in casual, if somewhat expensive, Muggle clothing. "Nephew."

"Aunt Petunia." Harry didn't smile at his aunt's pretension, but it was a near run thing. "I'm ready to go --"

With a wave of his wand and a whispered word, he shrank his luggage down to the size of a deck of cards and put it in his pocket.

"You -- you're not allowed to do magic outside of school."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I'm sixteen, Aunt Petunia. And I passed my OWLs. There are limits on what I'm allowed to do, but the Ministry isn't going to put me on trial for shrinking my luggage."

His aunt paled. Good. She understood his message.

Harry Potter was not helpless anymore.

He smiled cheerfully. "So, Aunt Petunia, is Dudley back yet? How was his year at Smeltings?"

"Dudley's fine." She nodded curtly to Molly and the Grangers. "Follow me."

"Of course, Aunt Petunia."

He followed her out of King's Cross and to the car.

She rounded on him. "What the devil was that all about?"

"Nothing." Harry looked her straight in the eye, realizing for the first time that he was of a height with her. For some reason that startled him, since in his mind's eye she was always so tall, her stick-thin arms wielding a skillet or iron or other heavy object aimed at his head. She'd have to make a real effort for that now, he thought. The cheerful smile slid off of his face. "Nothing more than letting you know that I can defend myself now. And that I will."

"You horrid --"

"Horrid little monster?" Harry could have invaded her personal space, forced her to step back; but she seemed so pathetic in her insipid blondness, her petty, bland vitriol, that it seemed pointless. "Not so little now, Aunt Petunia. And it won't be for long. I have a proposition for you."

"Proposition?"

"Yes, though it's best if Uncle Vernon were to hear it too."

Her mouth tightened. "Vernon is in no condition to speak to you."

Harry stared at her. "What happened to Uncle Vernon?"

"Get into the car, Harry."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

Harry noted that it was rather less of a hassle to do so when he could store his trunk and Hedwig's cage in his pocket. Aunt Petunia's lips pursed. "Where _is_ that dratted owl of yours?"

"Hogwarts. I told her to come tomorrow, so she wouldn't have to deal with the train."

He returned her narrow-eyed glance with an expression of perfect innocence -- he'd been practicing it in the mirror.

"It's just as well, then."

"What's wrong, Aunt Petunia?"

"What do you care?"

"Aunt Petunia --" Harry paused, finding words difficult. "-- you're my family."

She sneered. It was an odd expression on her face, very like Snape, as a matter of fact. His eyes narrowed. Too like Snape, in fact. The car came to a stop at a light, and she glanced toward him.

_"Legilimens,"_ Harry whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. Her eyes widened for a second before the mind behind them shoved him out with excessive force. The light turned green. Harry scowled. The car moved forward.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Snape?"

"Congratulations on spotting me, Mr. Potter. Five points -- oh, wait. We're not in school are we? There can be no points to Gryffindor."

"Much I care, you greasy bastard." Harry smirked. "Since we're not in school I don't owe you the respect you think you deserve."

"I am your professor, Potter."

"Right now, you're a blond woman who doesn't seem to realize that she needs to be in the next lane over."

Snape swore.

"Stupid Muggle conveyance."

"Better than brooms for multiple people." Harry stared at him. "So what are you doing, impersonating my Aunt."

"The Headmaster thought it best that we make sure that you made it home safely."

"Did he now?" Harry turned his head away to watch the city going by. "And where did he get the idea that I wouldn't be able to make it to the domicile of my beloved family?"

"It seems that your uncle was injured in some kind of accident. He was touring some facility or other when a piece of machinery attacked him. Or so I am given to understand."

Harry choked, then laughed. "A piece of machinery attacked him?"

"Oh, not literally, Potter. So far as I know it wasn't enchanted to assault your uncle."

"Pity. He loves his drills so much --" Harry's laughter sputtered to a stop. Actually, that was true. Vernon Dursley did, indeed, love his drills. Had the man lacked a Harry Potter in his life, Uncle Vernon would have been cheerfully middle-class, taking joy in his perfect garden and gossiping wife. "That was unkind of me."

"Why in the world would you care if you were unkind to that… Muggle."

"He's a person, you know." Harry didn't look at Snape, just at the scenery going by. "Him and his sister, Cousin Dudley, Aunt Petunia. They're all people. Petty people with small lives and smaller hearts, but they'd be content enough with their lot if not for me. Just like I'd be happy enough if not for them… but it isn't the magic that makes us different, Snape."

"Oh? And what, pray tell, does your infinite teenaged wisdom say it is?"

"Kindness. Love. Generosity. All the traits that you so despise in Neville Longbottom, really." Harry sighed. "They've not got much room in their hearts, my relatives. Enough for their own offspring, for their regimented lives, but not for me. They're sad, really."

"They've abused and neglected you since Dumbledore placed you with them and you call them _sad?_" Snape's expression was clear through the layer of Petunia's face. "Are you mad?"

"No." Harry wanted to laugh at the odd cross of sneering and bewilderment on Snape's face. "Just… resigned. They are what they are. Kind of like you, really. Petty, resentful and mean… only without the positive traits."

Snape glanced at him. "Positive traits?"

"I'm a Gryffindor, Snape. I admire bravery, dedication, and determination. Even when the person exhibiting them is you."

Snape apparently had nothing to say to that.

The rest of the drive passed in almost-companionable silence. Absorbed as he was in his ruminations, Harry didn't even notice when the polyjuice wore off.

"It seems that we have arrived, Mr. Potter."

"Yeah." Harry stared at 4 Privet Drive. "Damn. Now I'll have to do something magical when I enter the house. They do know I'm coming?"

After all, it did not bode well that Aunt Petunia had not come herself to pick him up.

"They are aware that they will be forced to endure your company for the summer, Mr. Potter. The Headmaster asked that I ensure your… welcome." Snape smiled nastily.

"You didn't harm them?"

"Mr. Potter, I have quite forsworn the abuse of undeserving Muggles."

"Which doesn't rule out deserving ones. Never mind. Is Uncle Vernon still in hospital?"

"No, your Aunt brought him home this morning. I am sure that you will find him in good temper."

Harry winced. "Thanks for the warning."

"Get out of the car, Mr. Potter."

Harry exited the vehicle. Snape apparated away with a small _pop_.

Shrugging, Harry went to the door and opened it.

"I'm back."


	4. Chapter Four: Those who Trespass

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned the characters. Harry would have relatives who cared for him and Snape would have some closure. Alas, they are not mine. They belong to JKR, Scholastic, WB, etc.**

sighs

Feedback is good. Constructive Criticism is excellent. Adoration is always welcomed.

**Harry Potter and the Pillars of Truth**

Chapter Four

"Hi, Harry."

If anything in the world could convince Harry that there was something seriously wrong in the Dursley household, Dudley's lackluster greeting surely would have been it.

"Hi, Dudley." Harry looked around the living room, chock full as it was of Dursley memorabilia, and was mildly surprised to see a fine layer of dust overhanging everything. Even when he wasn't here to perform as Aunt Petunia's house elf, she was a strict housekeeper and normally she would never allow the gleaming surfaces of her antique hardwood end tables to be marred by so much as a fingerprint. "What's going on?"

"Dad --" Dudley choked, and Harry abruptly realized that the young man's eyes were swollen and red with something that Dudley wouldn't thank him to recognize as tears. "There was an incident at the plant. The owner and president and V. P.'s, and some of the managers were doing the annual tour --"

Harry nodded, annual tour time had always been a tense one in the Dursley household, since it often could make or break Uncle Vernon's hopes for a raise that year.

"-- and one of the machines exploded. One of the men that Dad fired last year -- he'd got -- it was a bomb --"

"Jesus, Dudley!" Harry gaped at his cousin. "When did this happen? Annual tour time is usually in April."

Dudley nodded. "Yeah. Dad's been in hospital since then. Mum was only able to bring him home this morning."

"Why didn't someone tell me?"

"Mum wrote you, Harry. She even went to this strange place in London just to be sure that you'd get it."

"Are you sure about that?" Harry scowled. "I never got a letter about Uncle Vernon."

"I was allowed to come back from Smeltings for a couple of weeks, right after. Of course I'm sure." Dudley glared at him. "You should have come home instead of ignoring us."

"I didn't ignore you, Dudley. I don't wish any of you dead, you know."

"Why not?" Harry almost smiled to hear the unspoken _I would._

"You know, there's a man in the Wizarding World who wants to kill me Dudley. He's been trying to since I was little. He killed my parents, as a matter of fact."

"Your parents died in a car crash."

"No. They didn't. But that's not the point, Dudley. This man wants me dead -- actually, he wants a whole lot of people dead, because he wants to change the world to suit his view of it -- and I would never wish that feeling on you or Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon. Were it up to me, you'd be able to live quiet lives without interference."

Dudley Dursley snorted. "Like you've got any kind of say in that."

"Actually, I do." Harry smiled slightly. "More than you think, anyway. Are they upstairs?"

"Yeah. Dad was in a lot of pain, so Mum put him to bed before that… man… showed up."

"Man? Oh, you must mean Professor Snape."

"Professor? Is he one of your teachers?"

"For whatever sins I committed in a past life, yeah."

"Ugh."

Harry laughed at that. "Oh, he's not so bad, if you don't mind being constantly ridiculed and being treated like the scum of the Earth."

"Sounds like --"

"Yeah. It does sound just like home." Harry's smile turned wry. "Do you suppose we could just… avoid all of that? I won't be here long, and after that you'll probably never see me again."

"I've got more important things to do than chase you around, Harry."

"Yeah." They both looked up the stairs. "I'm going to the kitchen, Dudley."

"Mum hasn't even started dinner yet."

"Well, I can work on that too, but I'm pretty sure I have everything I need to make a healing draught for Uncle Vernon. If he'll accept 'freak' medicine."

"With as much pain as he's in, Harry, I expect he'd drink anything we put in front of his face."

For the first time that he could remember, Harry shared a conspiratorial look with his cousin, and found himself in amiable accord.

"Why don't you go on up and tell Aunt Petunia that I'll start supper and that if she has a moment I'd like to see her."

"Sure, Harry."

With that, Dudley lumbered his way upstairs. It was, Harry supposed, a bit unfair to think of it that way -- much of Dudley's fat had, indeed, melted away to reveal muscles, but he still moved with all of the grace of an arthritic elephant. Harry hoped he was lighter on his feet in the boxing ring.

Harry stopped at the closet under the stairs and unshrunk his school trunk. It was odd, staring into that tiny space, to think that he'd spent so much time there. Setting that thought aside, he rifled through his things, pulling out his potions text and his remaining student supplies. He'd enough to manage Dreamless Sleep, but perhaps… He flipped through the text -- there it was, _Beata Dormitum_, which turned Dreamless Sleep into a powerful healing draught that worked as well on Muggles as it did on wizards.

He checked his supplies. Well, presuming he didn't mess it up, he'd manage a few doses.

It'd only take about four hours to brew, for which, Harry supposed, he should be grateful.

Especially since he had just volunteered to make dinner at the same time.

"Right, then. Best get started." He went into the kitchen and spelled the island counter safe from fire before setting up a small, magical blaze to put his student cauldron upon. He measured out the water he needed and set it to warm before checking on what was available to eat in the kitchen.

Deciding simple was best, he set another pot of water to boil on the stove and set out some random dairy products and a packet of noodles when his Aunt's quiet voice came from the doorway.

"What in the world do you think you're doing, Harry?"

"I thought I'd make supper, Aunt Petunia." Harry nodded at the stove. "And, with your permission, I'd like to make something for Uncle Vernon."

"I'll not have you poisoning my husband --"

"I don't want to kill Uncle Vernon," Harry interrupted. He pulled his wand from his sleeve. "If I wanted any of you dead, it'd be faster and easier with this, you know."

Aunt Petunia paled, in almost exactly the same manner Snape had when he'd been pretending to be her.

"You can't--"

"I'm sixteen. I've passed my OWLs. You're my family and you know that magic exists. I can do rather a lot with this without getting into trouble. In this instance, however, all I want to do is make a potion for Uncle Vernon, because we haven't gotten to healing spells yet in Charms." Harry turned to the stove and began heating the milk that would be the base for a simple cheese sauce. "I'm actually pretty good at Potions, Aunt Petunia."

Much to Snape's disgust, actually. Draco Malfoy had not managed an O on his Potions OWL and thus had not been admitted into the NEWT-level class. Without Malfoy and his goons sabotage and distraction, Harry's scores in that class had improved dramatically.

"You and your freaky --"

"Aunt Petunia --" Harry took a deep breath. "I know you don't love me. I know you don't even like me. I know that you only keep me here under threat from Dumbledore. Even so, you are my family. I could hate you for all of the things you have never done for me and for all of the things you have -- but I don't. Okay? I don't want you hurt. I want you to be able to live in peace and I'm trying to help you do that."

Petunia gaped at him as he turned from the milk and went to the island to begin chopping valerian for the potion.

"Let me do this, Aunt Petunia." Harry carefully stirred the leaves into the cauldron with one hand while sorting dried chamomile flowers with the other. "Magic is good for more than killing people and forcing them to do things. It doesn't just steal away your loved ones only to replace them with 'freaky' simulacra."

Petunia snorted. "As if you'd know."

"What was that?" Harry looked up for a moment as flaxseeds cascaded into the gently boiling water.

"Nothing."

Harry left the potion to stir sauce and add cheese. Pasta went into the boiling water. Both were silent for a while, as Harry divided his attention between cooking and alchemy.

"Dudley told me that you had some kind of offer. Something beyond… this." Petunia's disdainful wave took in the potion and cooking both as Harry poured the pasta out into a colander.

"I want to buy the house from you. Give you a place to live that will be safe from Voldemort and Dumbledore both."

Petunia choked. "It's true then?"

Harry looked up at her, surprised in the act of serving out the meal.

"Is what true, then?"

"The… _thing_ that killed my parents… my sister. It's back?"

Harry, who had never heard how his Evans grandparents had died, stared at her. "Your parents?"

Petunia sat down heavily in one of the dining room chairs, covering her face with her hands as Harry brought the food to the table. He placed warming charms on the plates and serving dishes so the food would remain ready through his Aunt's distraction.

"I'd just left school. Lily was in her sixth year -- so far away and growing farther away every time I saw her. A witch, strong and beautiful, that's what Mum called her," Petunia said bitterly. "Not a squib like us, practically Muggle, what with Dad finding a job in the drill factory that paid four times any job the magic-less could get elsewhere." Her dark eyes were distant. "Lily used to laugh about it, you know, them calling her a mudblood, her with nearly a thousand years of Squibs in her background. She never corrected them, it amused her when they assumed that because she grew up _normal_ that she was somehow inferior."

"I had no idea."

"Of course you didn't. Do you think I want Vernon to know about my own… abnormality? Or Dudley?"

"You're not abnormal."

"No. Not here." She stared at him for a moment, eyes unreadable. "Can you imagine what it is like to live in the magical world without magic? To be utterly defenseless against the whims of your wanded 'betters'? Dad had hundreds of stories, all of them horrible, about the life of a Squib freak. He called himself that, you know. And me."

"Dear God." In some strange way, the first eleven years of his life made a kind of sense. He wondered, vaguely, what life would have been like if he not shown signs of magic from the time he was so very, very small. "No wonder you hated my mum."

"I never hated Lily!" Petunia hissed. "Never! But her magic and what that magic made of her… those things I hated very much. Lily wanted to be a doctor when she grew up. She wanted to be someone who healed. But she told me that she was so good at 'Charms' and excelled in 'Defense' that her abilities in other fields --" Petunia waved at the cauldron "-- were ignored in favor of her ability to fight. 'When the War is over, I can go back and become a Mediwitch.' Much chance she had of that."

Harry groaned. "You're not serious."

"Believe me or not." Petunia shrugged. "In any case, Lily hadn't gotten home yet when He came. He was handsome… dark and cold and cruel, with eyes that gleamed red, like cabochon rubies. He spoke of our Muggleness, our freakishness, our wretched daring to send a worthless whore like Lily to Hogwarts to pollute the pureblooded lines of Wizardry. And for that, he said, we had to suffer and die."

"And so we suffered. The world was filled with light and sound and pain… it's strange, you know, that a man who hates the 'pollution' of Muggles should enjoy assaulting them so much."

The blood drained out of Harry's face. "Aunt Petunia?"

"Muggles are for sport, you know," she said mechanically. "Although there was one -- young, he seemed to me, and sickened, even behind the white mask. He mimed the act so many before him had done, and whispered something against my temple even as others cried out for more sport. I lay limp beneath him, and he said 'She is dead, fool. What sport can be had from a corpse?'

"I could not move, but there was a sound -- I can remember Lily screaming. Then nothing until I woke up in hospital."

"I…"

Petunia's gaze returned from the past. "He calls himself Voldemort."

"Yes."

"You are here to protect you from him, bound to me by the blood of our common kin." Petunia laughed, an unpretty sound. "You are going to defeat him?"

Under the weight of her gaze Harry found himself giving the only answer he could conscience. "Yes."

"Tell me, Harry, how do you kill someone who isn't alive?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. But I _will_ figure it out. I swear it."

"Best see that you do." Petunia closed her eyes. "You want to buy the house?"

"Yes. I've funds that were left to me --"

"I will not take your mother's money --"

"-- by my godfather. He also left me some property, including a house just outside of Little Whinging. You might remember it as the Calvert place."

"That's not just a house, Harry."

"No, it's a bit big -- but didn't Uncle Vernon get a promotion last year?" Harry stared at the table. "Please, Aunt Petunia. I can put funds away to deal with taxes, if that's what worries you -- but the place is heavily warded in ways that I don't have the skill yet to manage and I… I can't let anything happen to you."

A hand touched his face, uncommonly gentle. "How did you grow up so kind, Harry?"

Harry laughed, pulling his chin away from her fingers. "It's more of an enlightened self-interest. I'll not have non-combatants killed to get at me. I've guilt enough for the things I've done without adding guilt for things I didn't do but could have."

He looked into her eyes. "I am sorry for what Voldemort did to you, Aunt Petunia."

Her gaze was dark, with things lurking in her eyes that were, perhaps, best not to name.

"Vernon will have to agree, but yes." Her eyes turned to the food. "Call Dudley down, will you? I wouldn't want supper to get cold."

"It won't get cold, Aunt Petunia." Harry waved his wand a bit. "Magic is good for things like that."

Petunia considered him for a moment.

"Yes. I suppose it is."


	5. Chapter Five: An Uneasy Peace

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned the characters. Harry would have relatives who cared for him and Snape would have some closure. Alas, they are not mine. They belong to JKR, Scholastic, WB, etc.**

sighs

Feedback is good. Constructive Criticism is excellent. Adoration is always welcomed.

**Harry Potter and the Pillars of Truth**

Chapter Five

Life in the Dursley household was quiet in the following weeks, revolving unexpectedly around the wellbeing of Vernon Dursley and the simple matter of the transfer of property. That Uncle Vernon had agreed to Harry's suggestion surprised the Boy-Who-Lived, but perhaps having Death pass closely enough that Vernon had touched its cloak had changed the man.

It didn't make him any easier interact with, though, so Harry stayed out of the way, performing the chores that in earlier years would have been compelled of him with a willing heart. It was not for long, and magic made the chore of moving the Dursley possessions child's play. It was strange, as the days passed, to see the knickknacks and photos and furniture disappear, but it amused him to know that the home that Sirius' mother had grown up in would house a Muggle family, even one as disagreeable as the Dursleys. It even gave him an odd sense of accomplishment to go to the old Calvert place to claim the wards and re-work them from within. Layering the wards that he would tie to his own blood and Petunia's took days, but when he was finished with the set-up and waiting only for his birthday to pass so he could trigger the final charms and enchantments gave him a satisfaction that he had never before known.

He wrote letters to his friends and received none in return. Dumbledore, no doubt, trying to restrict his movements and information flow. Fortunately for Harry, Dumbledore and his Order had never considered the use of the telephone, nor that Arthur Weasely, intent on protecting his source of all things Muggle, would Ward the Granger's workplace on the sly. So Harry spent time sending messages through Hermione, who was doubling as a receptionist during the day, while the whole family went to the Burrow at night.

So Harry kept up to date on the activities of his friends with the Headmaster none-the-wiser, just as he made plans for the day of his majority that he was fairly certain the old bastard knew nothing about.

Every time he thought of that, Harry had to smile.

Sometimes, when he was working on his homework or potions for Uncle Vernon, Petunia would come into the kitchen and watch him silently. Harry said nothing to her about this, despite how it occasionally unnerved him. He had never thought about what it would look like from the outside, the occasionally noisome things that went into potions, the sonorous-singsong of mumbled incantations.

"You look a lot like Lily." Petunia observed quietly. "She would come home and fire up the stove and play with the most appalling things."

Harry didn't look up. He was waiting for the potion to flash golden before turning a rather icky puce. "Oh?"

"Yes." Harry could feel Petunia's eyes upon him, somehow uncritical for the first time that he could remember. "Sometimes she would tell me what she was doing, because it was the only form of magic she was allowed over summers. Sometimes she'd just stare intently into the bottom of her cauldron, as though it would tell her the secrets of the universe."

Harry laughed, stirring anti-clockwise precisely seven-and-three-quarters turns. The potion shimmered, turning a pearly grey. "According to Professor Trelawny, you'd learn them in a crystal ball. Firenze -- pardon, Professor Firenze -- sees them in the paths of the stars. Snape would probably agree, though."

"Snape." Petunia said it softly. "The greasy one, with the hooked nose?"

"Yeah." Harry spelled out the fire, leaving the cauldron to cool. "He teaches potions."

"Doesn't like you much, does he?" Petunia's eyes focused oddly. "He was quite cutting when he came for a lock of my hair."

"No." Harry finished cleaning up. "Not much."

"He's got a compelling voice," she murmured. "Memorable."

"Aunt Petunia?"

"_'She's dead, fool.'_ I'll never forget that voice, like flint-wrapped velvet. Smooth undertones and sharp as broken glass." Petunia shook her head.

"Are you saying _Professor Snape_ assaulted you?"

Petunia shook her head. "He was the only one that didn't. He told them I was dead, that there was no more 'sport' to be had. I never thanked him."

Harry stared at her.

"He covered me up." A fine trembling had taken her over. "He directed them away -- did something to distract them just as Lily arrived with that boyfriend of hers. I heard her shouting, screaming at that thing, at Voldemort. He dropped something in my mouth -- a pill, so bitter -- and said 'Heal.'" How could I have not remembered that?"

"Aunt Petunia --"

"Lily stormed in, magic swirling around her, a goddess of light in the evening shadow…" She shuddered. "The voice… _oblivion?…_ And Lily, _expelli-_something. Then nothing."

"A memory spell. He didn't want you to remember."

"No." Petunia stared at the cauldron. "I'd always hated that magic came between Lily and me, but it wasn't until then that I hated the magic itself and anything to do with it."

"Hating magic kept you as safe as you could have been."

"Hating magic kept me from caring for you as I should have." Petunia did not look at him, her expression faintly guilty. "I'm sorry for that."

"Aunt Petunia…" Harry didn't know what to say to that. He could say that he forgave her, but he hadn't really, just resigned himself to her cruelty. "I…"

"Don't say anything, Harry." She raised her eyes. "You needn't. You will forgive me -- us -- or not. It is enough that you still call me family."

Harry gaped at her. "Er…"

"You humble me, Harry. Even if it is 'enlightened self-interest.'" Petunia Dursley's voice was soft. "Thank you for what you've done for us. If you need anything of me, anything at all, just ask."

She turned and left the kitchen, leaving a gobsmacked Harry behind.

0

Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was not having a good evening. For the weeks running up to the birthday of the Boy-Who-Lived he had had a sense of foreboding, one that grew denser and more terrible with every passing day. Harry had told him that he was going to leave the Dursley's at midnight on the 31st of July, whether or not the protections upon him were renewed.

_I strongly suspect that if I do not leave on my own, they will cheerfully throw me out at midnight on the thirty-first of July._

Harry's mocking words echoed through his mind. Surely with Vernon Dursley bedridden by that Muggle accident, Harry would be able to spend the summer secure at the Dursley residence?

_I strongly suspect that if I do not leave on my own, they will cheerfully throw me out at midnight on the thirty-first of July._

Of course, he hadn't told Harry about the incident with his Uncle. He had judged it too dangerous for Harry to leave school grounds and Harry, despite the enmity he had for his family, would undoubtedly have insisted on going home, even for a little while. So he had confiscated the increasingly desperate letters of Petunia Dursley and quietly gone to the hospital himself to give Vernon Dursley a chance at survival. He couldn't heal the man too much, of course, otherwise the staff would have been suspicious, but he had stabilized the man's condition sufficiently for Muggle medicine to take over.

_I strongly suspect that if I do not leave on my own, they will cheerfully throw me out at midnight on the thirty-first of July._

It was only right to keep Harry's mind on his studies in the middle of term anyway. Surely they couldn't blame him for his lack of response? Perhaps he should at least have sent Petunia Dursley a letter as to why Harry was not replying.

He watched the clock tick by. It would be the thirtieth of July for only a few more minutes and then Harry would be utterly beyond his control. Surely he would be safe enough where he was?

_I strongly suspect that if I do not leave on my own, they will cheerfully throw me out at midnight on the thirty-first of July._

Harry was a sensible boy. He wouldn't leave.

_I strongly suspect that if I do not leave on my own, they will cheerfully throw me out at midnight on the thirty-first of July._

0

"Just a moment more, Uncle Vernon. Then it will be done," said Harry softly.

The clock ticked over to 12:00, and Harry felt _something_ pass over him. He shivered.

"Have it your way, boy." Vernon's hand shook slightly as he signed the parchment in front of him. Petunia took the pen after him and signed with a much firmer hand.

It was strange, Harry thought, how physical actions resounded in the metaphysical. He _felt_ the Wards woven over #4 Privet Drive collapse in a magical implosion that rocked the invisible world even as his own Wards welled upward, spilling over the property in a fountain of unseen light. The magical drain was enormous as the seething tide ripped through him, hidden in the bubbling remains of Dumbledore's casting.

Harry went grey, toppling forward. "Oof."

"Harry?" Dudley asked. "You okay."

"Medic." Harry said in a small voice, which caused Dudley to laugh. Harry pushed himself upright. "Christ. They weren't kidding when they said it took power to do this. Fuck. Ron'll kill me."

"Language, boy!" Vernon glared at him, but underneath that was some small hillock of concern. "You alright?"

"It's my house now, Uncle Vernon. I'll swear if I want to," Harry told him weakly. "It just… took more out of me than I realized. But the Wards are up, here and at your new home. None of my enemies will be able to find you, and you can finish recuperating in peace."

"Chance'd be a fine thing." Petunia snorted. "Will you be all right here alone?"

"I'll be well enough. Hermione's bringing some things tomorrow, so this --" Harry waved at the now barren living room "-- won't be empty for long."

Petunia nodded. "It's time for us to go, then?"

"Yeah." Harry stared at his aunt for a moment and then cautiously opened his arms in a gesture he hadn't used since he was a toddler. Petunia hesitated and then walked slowly into her nephew's arms, hugging him for the first time that either of them could remember. "Stay safe, Harry."

"Catch-as-catch-can, that, Aunt Petunia." He pulled back. "I will make him pay, you know. Not just for Mum and Dad."

Petunia smiled a little, the odd little vindictive smile she sometimes had when she gossiped about executive's wives. "Good."

"What was that?" demanded Uncle Vernon.

Petunia sighed. "Nothing important, Vernon."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Uncle Vernon?"

"What is it, boy?"

"Get the fuck out of my house, would you?" Harry smiled. "And don't come back."

Vernon went red and Dudley snickered. "'Bye, Harry."

"See you, Dudley. 'Bye Aunt Petunia." Harry stepped back as Petunia took Vernon by the hand, pulling him away.

"Good-bye, Harry." Petunia actually smiled at him. "Good luck."

0

Hogwarts shook in magical backlash.

Albus Dumbledore rested his head upon his hands, closing his eyes as returning magic surged over him in razor sharp waves.

Minerva McGonagall woke from a dream of toffee snitches, chocolate quaffles, and licorice broomsticks when energy roared through her, tasting of age and bittersweet pain. She glanced at the clock before staring sightlessly into the darkness. 

Severus Snape barely paused in his stirring. Poppy Pomphrey's store of potions was not at a stage where he could contemplate the meaning of the energy cascading through him. Time enough in the morning to worry about the fact that Harry Potter had just come of age… 

… and that the wards built up over decades, which should have withstood anything -- even the death of his aunt -- had come tumbling down. 


	6. Chapter Six: Escape Velocity

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned the characters. Harry would have relatives who cared for him and Snape would have some closure. Alas, they are not mine. They belong to JKR, Scholastic, WB, etc.**

sighs

Feedback is good. Constructive Criticism is excellent. Adoration is always welcomed.

**Harry Potter and the Pillars of Truth**

Chapter Six

The door closed with a thud that resounded through the house and echoed through the empty corners of his heart. It was a relief to have them gone, to actually be able to call #4 Privet Drive home.

Having something of his own -- bare as it was of anything other than a sagging bed and threadbare rug in he'd moved to the master bedroom -- was wonderful.

"Happy birthday, Harry," he whispered into the night, shutting off the lights that he would later enchant to run on magic. "Happy birthday to me."

Harry climbed the stairs, habit taking him to the tiny room that had been his prison. He smiled at the locks on the door before turning around and going into the master suite, such as it was.

He pulled out his wand. There was not much left to do tonight -- just one more thing before he could rest.

Swish. Flick. _Will._

Instead of having a rickety Hollywood frame and a mattress older than he was stand lonely in the center of the room, a magnificent four-poster with ebony wood and red-and-gold curtains dominated the space. Eventually he'd have to purchase a real one -- such transfigurations did not last forever, although it would the night and many to come -- but for now, Harry fell into the soft, feather mattress with a happy sigh, kicking off his over-large trainers. He burrowed under the blankets, smiling. No more lumps and bumps, just a soft, warm cocoon that welcomed him eagerly.

"Mmmmm. Happy birthday to me."

0

"Thank you for dropping us off, Dr. Granger!" Ron Weasley called to Hermione's mother, who waved him off with a conspiratorial smile.

"Just call the office when you're ready to come home!"

"Thanks, Mum." Hermione held a large bag in front of her that she hadn't even allowed Ron to peek into. "We might be back tonight, but…"

"Hermione, darling. I trust you -- and your young man." Jane Granger smiled. "You wouldn't do anything to shame me or your father."

Ron blushed. Hermione's cheeks bloomed a becoming rose. "Thanks, Mum."

"I'll tell the Weasley's where you are --"

"Just tell them we're with Harry," said Hermione firmly.

Dr. Granger frowned. "I don't know that I like being so evasive --"

"It's for Harry's safety, really." Hermione smiled. "I thought you trusted me?"

"I do." Dr. Granger nodded. "Very well then. We'll see you in a couple of days?"

"Absolutely," Hermione nodded. "It'll be okay, really, mum."

"See to it." She started the car. "Have a good time!"

"Bye, Mum!"

"Goodbye, Dr. Granger!"

Hermione giggled as the car pulled away from the curb. "Signs that your parents believe you're growing up. Allow for an indefinite stay with another friend without gathering reams and reams of data."

"Huh?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Mum didn't even ask to meet the Dursley's. But I expect mum realizes that for Harry to have us over, his relatives can't be here."

"Ron! Hermione!" Harry waved to them from the door. "You going to stand on the curb all morning?"

"No!" Hermione ran up to him. "Harry! Happy birthday!"

She handed over the bag and Harry peeked inside.

"You are the best. The goblins give you any trouble?"

"Not in the least. They were happy to comply with your request." She grinned. "It was fun shopping with Luna, much to my surprise."

Hermione and Ron trailed Harry into the house and Ron gawked at all the bare spaces.

"Blimey! What's all this then?"

"The beginning of my life, such as it is," Harry said grinning. "I've, uh, taken possession of this house for my own use, and re-Warded it."

Hermione laughed, delighted. "Oh, you sly devil. You told Dumbledore you were leaving here."

"Yes."

"How long until he figures it out, do you suppose?"

"Dunno. I expect he'll be searching the whole of the British Isles before he thinks to look here." Harry grinned. "Vernon doesn't realize that he signed a binding magical contract that keeps him from telling people where I am. Even if they see Aunt Petunia or Dudley, they'll none of them be able to tell Dumbledore or his lackeys where I've gone. The neighbors have been aware that the Dursley's were moving for weeks -- and when they look at me, they just see 'that nice young man who bought the Dursley place.'"

Ron howled with laughter. "That's priceless. Don't they recognize you?"

Harry shook his head. "Variant on the _Fidelius _Charm and the _Notice-me-Not_."

Hermione tapped her lips. "Clever. _Very_ clever."

"You should know. You suggested it."

"Well, I didn't think you meant to use it for this kind of purpose." Hermione threw her arms around Harry. "What a wonderful birthday!"

"Yes indeed." Harry dug around in the bag and pulled out what looked like furniture for a dollhouse. He considered it for a moment before setting things out around the fireplace. _"Finite Incantatem!"_

The shrinking spells on the furniture vanished and it expanded to normal size.

Harry smiled. "Excellent. I thought that was leather when I pulled it out."

Ron stared at the living room furniture. "This is what you and Luna were doing in London?"

Hermione nodded.

"And you didn't tell me?" Ron pouted. Hermione scowled and then softened.

"Ron, you were busy with your father that day, and I didn't dare say anything about it at your house."

"What's this?"

Hermione's scowl returned, accompanied by one from Ron.

"I have reason to believe that Dumbledore has set up some kind of passive surveillance on the Burrow."

"We don't know that!"

"Ron, he _came to your house_ the morning after we talked about Harry's plans for his birthday." Hermione sighed. "The old man came to forbid us from contacting you today. Said it wouldn't be safe. As though anything is."

Ron snorted. "Okay, okay. It was a bit coincidental at that."

"A _bit?_ Honestly, Ron."

"I think you and Harry have gotten a bit paranoid about Dumbledore."

"You think?" Harry laughed roughly. "I'm more than a bit paranoid about Dumbledore. He makes Machiavelli look tame."

"He does have the whole of the Wizarding World's best interests at heart, Harry."

"I know. That doesn't mean he gives a damn about mine." Harry sighed. "Let's not talk about this. Now that I'm of age, Dumbledore can't stop me from doing what I would like to do."

"Such as?" asked Ron.

"I want to test for my Apparation license."

Ron looked at him. Hermione laughed. "So that's one of the surprises."

Harry nodded and held out a roll of parchment. "And here's your permission to test early, if you like."

Hermione blinked. "You're kidding."

"No. He's mental." Ron laughed. "How're we going to get to Diagon Alley?"

"Simple enough --" Harry pointed at the fireplace. "Unregistered Floo."

"They'll know where we came from!"

Ron shook his head. "No they won't. You can Floo from any fire, Hermione. You just can't Floo _to_ an unregistered one. People do it all the time, really."

"You'd think that…" Suddenly she laughed. "Oh, right, it doesn't matter. It'll just say something like 'Harry Potter's Residence' or some such nonsense. It doesn't give an address."

Harry nodded, laughing with her. "That's right. It'd say that no matter where I Flooed from, so long as I thought it was my home."

"Devious. Gred and Forge will be proud of you."

"When we tell them, which is no time soon. I love your brothers, but they can't always keep their mouths shut, at least among family."

"Right." Ron nodded. "Are you going to tell Ginny?"

"At the party tonight." Harry smiled. "We've got reservations at _Medici's_, in Diagon Alley. Neville and Luna will meet us there, and Hermione has told Ginny about it."

Ron's eyes bugged out. _"Medici's?_ Harry, that's the most expensive restaurant in London."

Harry smiled wickedly. "I know."

"Everyone who is anyone will see us there."

"I know."

_"I don't have anything to wear!"_

Hermione and Harry looked at one another and then at Ron. They grinned.

"We know," they said in unison.

"Which is why," Hermione continued, "I expect we're going shopping after we test."

Harry nodded.

Ron groaned.

0

"What in God's name is that dratted boy up to?" growled Severus Snape, watching from the shadows as three triumphant Gryffindors emerged from the Ministry of Magic building as though they had no cares in the world. He couldn't hear the soft _pop!_'s of Apparation, but it was done so publicly that he had no doubt that the enormous grins on their faces had to do with acquiring their Apparation licenses. He had no idea where they might have gone. "Idiots, the lot of them."

Snape Apparated away to the gates of an ancient, crumbling ruin. Once it had been a magnificent castle, a force to be reckoned with on the moors, but now housed the solitary remains of a great, pureblooded family. He stared at the rooms he had made only barely habitable in the monstrosity that was his 'family' manor, along with their solitary visitor and sighed.

"Foolish children."

"You have news, then?" asked Albus Dumbledore.

"Really, Albus, we must stop meeting like this," Snape said dryly. "People will suspect that we're having an affair."

"Minerva already believes that I am diddling half the staff, Severus, otherwise why would I keep you and Trelawny on?"

Snape snorted. "I don't know, does Sybil give good head?"

"I wouldn't know, dear boy. Perhaps you should ask her?"

"I would rather attach one of those Muggle machines -- what are they, called, Hoovers? Vacuums? Something like that -- to my cock than have Sybil Trelawny within five feet of it."

"That must make dancing with her very difficult."

"I have never _danced_ with Trelawny." Snape glowered at the Headmaster. "In or out of bed."

"Pity. I expect she could use a good shag, really."

Snape dismissed that with a wave of his hand. "Tell me, Albus, how do you expect to keep Potter under control if you've allowed him to get his Apparation license?"

The old man choked. "What?"

"I saw the three of them -- Granger, Potter and Weasley -- come out of the Ministry and Apparate away."

Dumbledore growled. "I told the two of them to stay away from Harry this summer."

"Much good it seems to have done you, Albus." Snape studied the Dumbledore. "You do realize what this means."

"That I have lost control of our only real weapon against Voldemort?" Albus sat heavily upon an ancient chair that was barely up to the old man's weight. "That I have foolishly squandered the good will of the boy that will save us all --"

"Or condemn us. He's just a child, Albus."

"Hardly a child, Severus." Dumbledore stared at him and Snape flushed faintly with an unreasonable shame. "Harry has probably never been a child."

"Don't be stupid," Snape snapped. "Despite what you think and what _he_ thinks, he is not a functioning adult. He is, so far as I have been able to determine, unable to think anything out far enough ahead to _qualify_ as an adult."

"That is hardly fair, Severus."

"What has fair got to do with it?" Snape asked rhetorically. "The boy is a menace."

"Menace or not, he is our only hope." Albus stared at him. "And he must be found."

"You are joking." Snape glared at the old man. "You're not joking."

"I wish that I were."

"Albus, I cannot be expected to trail every little…"

"Severus."

"…damn it." Snape's long, elegant fingers clasped the bridge of his nose. No doubt his incipient migraine was going to smack him around like a trout in a tsunami. "You do realize how suspicious it is for me to wander around asking Muggles questions about Harry?"

"I am sure that you can think of something to pacify the Dark Lord.

"Oh, the joy that is being me," Snape sneered. "I will have to pretend to search a thousand different places, so he does not realize that I know exactly where to start. I shall institute inquiries that are designed to be fruitless, just so he doesn't aim an _Aveda_ at my head. Oh, rapturous day!"

"That will be quite enough, my boy."

"If anyone in this discussion is not a boy --" Snape took a deep breath. "Very well. I will begin putting feelers out as soon as I can, but surely you would be better off asking the werewolf… or possibly the Impossible Twins."

Dumbledore laughed at the audible capitals. "The Weasley boys are not that bad."

"Are they not?" Severus winced as his Dark Mark began to burn. "Fuck. He calls."

"Stay safe, Severus."

Snape didn't bother to sneer at that, instead summoning his cloak and mask and Disappparating away.

0

Shopping in Muggle London with Hermione and Ron proved to be a most excellent adventure. They had gone to the most expensive clothing store they could find the courage to enter and purchased formal wear for them all. Harry enjoyed watching Ron gape over Hermione in a tight, short skirt that barely came to mid-thigh before she chose a floor-length sheath that did amazing things to her figure and eyes.

Harry, upon announcing that he needed a new wardrobe, found himself surrounded by obsequious staff that made him want to laugh because all he could think of was seeing Malfoy at Madam Malkin's robe shop the first time, the little snot radiating money and arrogance in equal measure. He vaguely wondered how Malfoy was doing. His father had received the Kiss almost a year ago and Harry felt strangely guilty about prodding the young man about it on the train.

Shaking off thoughts of Malfoy, he brought his attention to the seemingly thousands of styles and cuts for tuxedos and then glanced at Hermione. She was staring wide-eyed at Ron, his arse and shoulders lovingly displayed in a designer tuxedo, who remained oblivious as the salesmen fluttered around him like so many drifting leaves on the wind.

Harry had to admit it was a nice arse. The thighs weren't bad either. Hours of riding a broom had that effect on people.

Not that Ron's was the arse he really wanted to see, but as he'd told Hermione on the train, he'd not had much time for snogging, or even thinking about it. When he did think about it, the oddest things would come to mind -- a soft voice, like velvet and razorblades rumbling indistinctly, or long-fingered hands, like a pianists, playing against his skin.

The only conclusion he'd really come to in the past year was that if and when he started exploring the possibilities of sex, he wasn't planning to do it with the opposite gender. Cho, as pretty as she was, had drawn him for aesthetic qualities that he valued… and because, he suspected, that she was almost as flat as a board with nearly that many curves.

These days Ron would qualify for fantasy material -- broad shoulders, slim waist, powerful thighs, and an arse to die for -- but Ron was his family, his kin, and every time his hormones said "Wow! Look at that!" the rest of him said "Ewww. Just ewww."

But he had to admit that Hermione had reason to be goggling.

"Harrrry. You don't really expect me to wear this, do you?"

"Yes." Harry smiled, and Ron's eyes narrowed.

"That's rather an… interesting expression."

"Someone's got a pla-an." Hermione sing-songed. She gave Harry an appreciative once-over. "Mmmm. Yummy!"

"Hermione!"

"I'm not dead, Ron, and Harry could take the limp out of a noodle the way he looks right now."

Harry blushed. "Hermione!"

"Well, you could!" Hermione laughed. "A pity we haven't enough time for more thorough tailoring."

"Are you a witch or aren't you?" Ron asked and Harry laughed at her blush.

"Right then." She glanced at Harry. "How aggressively Muggle do you want to be?"

Ron stared at them. "Oh. I get it. Except that I don't. What the hell?"

"Everyone who is anyone will be at _Medici's._"

"So?"

"I want to make a statement." Harry looked at Ron. "You don't have to wear a tux. Your own formal wear will do, you know."

Ron shook his head. "No. I stand with you, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Just so."

"What about Ginny and Luna and Neville?"

"Luna is taking Ginny shopping today."

"Oh, dear."

Harry laughed. "I trust Ginny to come up with something appropriate."

"And Neville?"

"Went shopping with Dean last week, although Dean is all at sea as to why Neville would drop so much money on muggle clothes."

Hermione laughed. "Poor Dean."

"Poor Dean, indeed. Poor Neville."

"I'm sure that Dean left out the leather shops and biker bars." Harry tilted his head to one side. "Or, maybe not."

"Harry!" Hermione thwacked him on the arm.

"Oh, come on. Neville in leather pants. You _know_ you want to see it."

"My brain! My brain!" Ron shuddered. "I've got to scrub that image out of my mind!"

Hermione's look at her boyfriend was wicked. "Okay, how about…"

She whispered something in his ear and Ron's eyes grew enormous. "You. Are. Evil."

She grinned. "Wickedness is its own reward."


	7. Chapter Seven: Sto Per Iustitia

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned the characters. Harry would have relatives who cared for him and Snape would have some closure. Alas, they are not mine. They belong to JKR, Scholastic, WB, etc.**

sighs

Feedback is good. Constructive Criticism is excellent. Adoration is always welcomed.

**Harry Potter and the Pillars of Truth**

Chapter Seven

The forecourt of _Medici's_ sported a glorious Renaissance fountain carved of brilliantly white marble and spilling shining arcs of sweet water. It was easily one of the most beautiful things Harry had ever seen.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, while Ron stood, dumbfounded by the sight.

"That's bloody amazing."

Harry laughed. "It _is_ beautiful. Muggles do the most amazing work, don't they."

"That ain't no Muggle fountain, Harry."

"No, Ron, but…" Hermione wrapped an arm around his waist, "Muggles have built many fountains like it, without magic."

"Wow," said a familiar voice. The three of them turned to find Neville, Ginny, and Luna standing behind them. Ginny was staring at the water, entranced. "You can almost hear it singing."

Luna nodded at Ginny's words, her gaze tracing the shimmering arcs, enraptured. "An endless circle, life, death, rebirth. Creation, destruction, transmutation, ruination, fabrication, disintegration…"

Hermione began singing under her breath.

Harry laughed. "You adding _The Lion King_ to the video's everyone needs to see?"

"The circle of liiiiiife." Hermione's voice was surprisingly sweet. "No. Probably not."

"Wazzat?"

"It's a movie, Ron." Hermione smiled wistfully. "Which includes a song about the 'Circle of Life.' Even when people die, there's always a way to go on. You can keep fighting, even when the bad guy wins."

Ron stared at her, transfixed. Hermione stared at the fountain, unaware of his intent look.

"Potter, party of six," announced a liveried attendant by the great double doors.

"Shall we, then?"

"I suppose we shall." Harry smiled and led the way.

Their usher stared at them.

"I am sorry sir, but this is a fine establishment. Formal wear is _required_ for dining here."

"I am wearing formal attire." Harry smiled pleasantly. "And so are all of my friends."

He gestured to Ginny, who had found a tea-length formal gown that caressed her figure with loving hands. Luna's ice-blue confection looked like it had come out of a fairytale and suited her pale complexion. Hermione, in an ankle-length bronze sheath looked like a goddess, in Harry's opinion, one he knew Ron shared. He and Ron and Neville were all wearing designer tuxedos.

"Mister Potter --" Harry heard the man gulp when Harry 'casually' ran a hand through the fringe of his hair, revealing the scar "-- we are accustomed to _normal_ formal wear."

Hermione snorted quietly. "This is perfectly normal formal wear. Millions of people wear clothes like these to formal functions all over the world."

The man glowered. Ginny grinned, a mischievous pixie-smile that would have terrified the man if he had known her better. "Do you post your rules somewhere?"

"This is a fine establishment, what need do we have of such a thing?"

Harry grinned down at her. They'd become good friends once it became obvious that she really had gotten over her crush on him. "Actually, the reservation confirmation _did_ say that formal wear is expected. I suspect they do that when they get people they're, ummm, not used to making reservations."

Ginny nodded. "That makes sense."

"Still, it didn't say _Wizarding_ formal wear." Harry pulled his reservation card out of his pocket, and scanned it. "No, nothing about it having to be Wizard wear, just a gentle reminder that this is, as he," Harry nodded at the man, "says, a fine establishment and casual clothes are discouraged."

"I see." Ginny turned to the man. "Well, as we aren't violating any of your rules, may we come in? I've heard that your food is excellent and I'm hungry."

He appeared to be at a loss for words as he turned toward the open doors. "This way."

They entered a fairytale realm of polished stone and glittering ice. Chandeliers twinkled above marble mosaics in geometric abstracts. Fluted columns rose to support graceful vaulting and it was all Harry and his friends could do to not stop and stare at the beauty of it. Hermione, who had traveled extensively in the south of France and in Italy, was only slightly less awed than the rest of them.

"So beautiful," she whispered. Her eyes trailed their attendant. "It's a shame to see that such beauty is wasted on one who works here. Look at him, eyes front and never straying to the glories around him."

"Familiarity breeds contempt?"

Hermione nodded. "It's sad, I think. There's so _much_ in the Wizarding world that is close to miraculous, but wizards and witches are blind to the bounty they hoard like misers… just the same way this man is surrounded by exquisite elegance, with breathtaking artistry and does not see it."

"But…" Ron placed a gentle hand at the small of her back, a gentlemanly action that surprised Harry, though Hermione took it in stride. "You keep saying that there's a lot the Muggles do that's just as worthwhile."

These words almost echoed in the silence that greeted their appearance. Elegantly robed witches and wizards turned horrified eyes on their tuxedos and dresses. Harry could see clutches of known Death Eaters and their families dotting the tables and forced himself not to smile, gesturing to the others to follow the man ushering them to a table near the center of the room. His face held an embarrassed flush, as though ashamed to be leading a gaggle of Muggle-dressed teenagers into the room.

Hermione continued as though nothing was wrong. "There are, Ron. The familiarity with the marvels of the Wizarding world had bred a contemptuous kind of superiority. Wizards have been able to do wondrous things for ages while their Muggle brethren have struggled against themselves and nature to move forward."

Neville looked curious. "Aren't we superior?"

Harry laughed, although Hermione only looked amused.

"There's nothing in the Wizarding world that compares to a computer, much less a network of them." Hermione ticked off. "Muggles are much more capable of information storage, retrieval and analysis. Scientific Method never really caught on, here, except in a few disciplines --"

"Like potions." Luna interjected.

"Like potions," Hermione nodded as Ron pulled a chair out for her. She sat down as Harry and Neville did the same. "Arithmancy has some elements of it, as do certain branches of DADA, Transfiguration, and the Dark Arts themselves."

Neville looked confused.

Harry looked at Hermione and the passionate flush that came to her cheeks as she spoke, ignoring the heated glares coming from around the room. "Logic and the search for rational reasons behind things has led non-magical people farther in a shorter amount of time than their wizarding counterparts. It doesn't make them better, but it gives those with that background an edge in some disciplines while it hinders them in others."

"Shut your mouth, you infernal Mudblood bitch."

Hermione turned gracefully in her seat, a brilliant smile blooming on her face as she saw the speaker.

"Draco, darling, I didn't see you there." Her gaze swept around the room. "I'm terribly sorry, all of the inbreeding tends to make purebloods all look the same to me. Present company --" she tilted her head toward Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna "-- excepted, of course, since all of them have functional personalities. Tell me, Draco, what is it like to be born a drone, with no more thought than the other mindless insects buzzing around a pallid hothouse garden?"

"I am hardly a drone." Draco's pale eyes burned with anger.

Hermione considered him. "No, that would require too much work, I'm afraid. I suppose you're more like a mosquito: buzzing around, sucking blood, and waiting for someone to swat you. That's a bit more fitting for a parasite like you."

"How dare you come here and insult --"

"You came up to us, Draco," Harry said mildly. "This is a public restaurant, not a private club."

The look Malfoy gave him should have reduced him to ash. Harry smiled pleasantly. "Do you wish to join our party, Draco? I'm sure that there's another chair around here somewhere."

Ron looked vaguely ill at the idea, although if Ginny's smirk were anything to go by, she thought it would be entertaining.

"I would never break bread with filth like you."

Harry snorted. "Best be careful and never invite Tommy-boy to dinner then, although I wonder if he knows your beliefs about his personal hygiene."

Malfoy spun on his heel and headed for a table in the corner. Harry gave it a considering eye.

"Interesting. Did he want privacy, do you think, or has the Malfoy name been tarnished in some way?"

"A little of both," said Neville. "The Malfoy businesses have been hard hit since Lucius Malfoy was Kissed. Gran says that not everyone thinks that young Malfoy is up to running them with competence since Malfoy senior had not yet begun to really introduce him to his contacts and business partners when he was sent to Azkaban fifth year."

Luna's gaze sharpened unexpectedly. "That's interesting."

"What's that?"

"Look over there --" her eyes flicked toward Malfoy's table, where Professor Snape was glaring at them from the shadows. "It seems that we've caught some interest."

Ginny snickered, which had an odd dissonance with her almost excessively lady-like posture. "Oh, dear. I can just hear it now. 'One thousand points from Gryffindor, Weasley, for appearing in public for any reason what-so-ever.'"

Ron groaned. "You do know that he's going to tell the Headmaster."

Harry shrugged.

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"No. We're here to be seen."

Their waiter arrived, ready to take their orders. Privately, Harry found it rather funny that high-class Wizard establishments would do it the Muggle way when there were charms that would do the same thing. The waiter moved away and moments later their food appeared on their plates, much like at Hogwarts. Harry had to smile at that. Harry unobtrusively cast a comprehensive food-testing charm before they all tucked in -- it wouldn't do for them all to die because some lackey in the kitchens was a follower of Voldemort.

The food was clean and every bit as delicious as reported. They spoke of inconsequential things for the length of the meal, lighthearted conversation that may not have sparkled with the same high-flying pseudo-intellecutallism of the surrounding tables, but shining well enough for their own entertainment. When they were done, Harry pulled a handful of boxes from his pocket. Each was the size of a pea and he handed them out to his friends.

"What's this?" Luna asked as she stared at the tiny thing in her palm.

Ron pulled out his wand and flicked it. _"Finite Incantatem."_

The pea-sized containers lengthened to reveal themselves as jeweler's boxes.

"Harry, it's _your_ birthday, you're not supposed to be giving presents to everyone else. Well, except for Neville."

Neville laughed. "Thanks for remembering, Hermione."

"I haven't been the best of friends, have I?" Hermione asked, eyes sad. "I've never gotten you a birthday present Neville. Oh! I'm sorry."

Neville reached over and brushed her hand with his. "It's okay, Hermione."

"No, it isn't, you've always been a good friend."

"Even when I'm trying to stop you from losing us House Points?"

"Especially then, Neville," said Harry, quite serious. "Dumbledore is right about many things, you know, and it does take much more strength to defy your friends than it does your enemies." His gaze found Snape's briefly. "It's a courage that most people never find. I've always thought you more than earned those points first year."

Neville blushed.

"How pretty!" Luna opened hers up to find a pendant. On the face of it was an exquisitely detailed pair of ravens that flitted about the limbs of a gently waving tree. "Hunin and Munin! How did you know?"

"It somehow seemed appropriate for a Ravenclaw." Harry grinned. "Turn it over."

_"Sto pro iustitia."_ Luna laughed. "Your Latin --"

"It gets the point across."

Neville opened his, smiling as he found a lion cub playing before an amused looking lion and lioness. He turned it over, _"Sto pro iustitia._ I stand for justice."

Ginny's revealed a Valkyrie, resplendent in armor. _"Sto pro iustitia."_

Ron opened his, laughing as he found a valiant knight fighting a dragon. He grinned at Harry. _"Sto pro iustitia."_

Hermione stared at hers for a moment and Harry wondered if the image he'd chosen pleased her or not. Unlike the others, hers did not move and had a Muggle meaning that the others (with the possible exception of Luna) probably were not aware of. It wasn't even a British symbol, but to him it represented Hermione's struggle with the Wizarding world.

She looked up at him, with tears in her eyes.

"Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,  
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;  
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand  
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame  
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name,  
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand  
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command  
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.  
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she  
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,  
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,  
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.  
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,  
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

"Huh?"

Hermione laughed. "Oh, Ron! It's the inscription on the American Statue of Liberty."

"What's that?"

Harry had to resist the urge to bang his head on the table.

"You like it then?" asked Luna. Hermione nodded, revealing the graven image of the statue.

_"Sto pro iustitia."_ Hermione murmured. "I stand for what is right and what is just. I stand with Harry Potter."

0

Severus Snape wondered, as he watched Harry Potter and his oddly dressed friends enter _Medici's_, if his day could possibly get any worse. Starting the day by seeing the boy wonder flitting about unprotected in Diagon Alley was bad enough without Voldemort's planning session and continued exhibition of his profound displeasure with the defeat of the Death Eaters at Hogsmeade. Worse still, Malfoy junior had come to the meeting, alerted to it by his mother, Narcissa, and had haltingly told the tale of Hermione Granger's challenge to the Dark Lord.

Dumbledore would have to be alerted to the girl's statement that he could kiss her lily-white arse. Snape was unsure if Dumbledore would be amused or horrified by that statement.

The Dark Lord's rage that a Muggleborn would speak so of him had earned the messenger a full minute beneath the _Cruciatius_ and immediate planning began to punish Granger for her presumption. Various suggestions from the cruel to the obscene had made the rounds until the Dark Lord put a stop to it, telling Draco to pick those of the Dark Lord's followers he believed could be of help and get his revenge.

They had adjourned to _Medici's_ for the fine food and discreet atmosphere. Draco's money commanded entrance but it was clear that the recent smears on the family name accorded his party a less fashionable table than Draco was used to.

"… keep saying that there's a lot the Muggles do that's just as worthwhile." The words were not loud, but they reverberated through the room. Snape almost sighed. Could Weasley be any more stupid? He tuned out Granger's lecture on the subject only to see Draco become pale with twin flags of color on his cheeks.

"How _dare_ they? This place has always been kept clean of Mudblood scum. Can you believe that they've even let them in wearing those rags?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. Muggle the clothes might have been, but they absolutely _reeked _money.

"Reservations only require formal wear, Draco."

"Are you defending them?" the young man challenged, eyes hot.

"Of course not. Just pointing out the entertaining stupidity of assuming that _Muggle_ formal wear would be acceptable. Look there, isn't that Griselda Groomer, the fashion consultant for _Witch Weekly?"_

Others at the table laughed, realizing that Granger and the others would undoubtedly be humiliated in the paper the next day.

"She's expounding on the value of _Muggles_. In _public._"

"Not surprising, given her background."

Draco pushed away from the table. "This is not to be borne. I will not be insulted like this."

The boy stalked off.

"This'll be fun," said Rudolphus LeStrange, and Snape smiled cruelly in return, although for different reasons. "Young Malfoy will have her in tears --"

"…all of the inbreeding tends to make purebloods all look the same to me." Granger's voice drifted over the air with honeyed sweetness. LeStrange choked.

"How _dare_ she?"

Snape looked at him. "Don't you have better lines than a pubescent boy?"

His companion snarled.

"Now, now."

"You're enjoying this too much, Snape."

"The day that snot-nosed infants engaged in a battle of wits when both sides are lacking isn't funny, I'll snog a Dementor," Snape replied. _"Lucius_ would have had her on her knees, begging for mercy. Draco is such a pissant piker, one wonders what sub-human monstrosity she was bedding to produce him. Of course, her bloodline produced Sirius Black, the blood traitor, so it's probably just a weakness in the line. It's a shame to see the Malfoy bloodline brought so low."

LeStrange nodded, watching Draco's ignominious retreat with jaded eyes. "You're right. It's probably why she has become so bold, with only the likes of young Malfoy to fear."

"Bitch. Mudblood whore." Draco stomped to his seat and Snape looked up to see Potter's little group studying them.

"Draco, you are the worst of fools," Snape sneered. The young man's head snapped up. "You have brought us to their attention -- no, do not look, idiot boy! Do you really think that Potter will not see us together and become suspicious? Faugh! Better that we plan for Granger's comeuppance later."

"Damnation, Potter is looking again --" said LeStrange. "I cannot afford to be spotted by one of Dumbledore's lackeys, not with you. Have you no sense?"

"_Medici's_ has always been safe enough, cousin," Malfoy snapped. "How was I to know that Potter and his little clique would be here?"

"Better that we had gone to the Manor --"

"-- which is crawling with Aurors. It is you who are the fool."

"Be careful what you say to me, boy. Bellatrix is most eager to meet you, you know. She's always had a thing for blonds."

"I'm not afraid of Aunt Bellatrix."

Snape barely suppressed a shudder. Rudolphus smiled.

"Then you truly are a fool, boy."

0

Hermione's words filled the table with solemn silence for about a minute before she laughed, breaking the tension.

"So, aside from clever little commentaries on us, what are they?"

Harry looked serious. "Good luck and protection charms, mostly, and a representation of a vow that most of us have taken --"

They all looked at Ginny.

Ginny smirked. "You don't think I'm too young to join you?"

Harry shook his head.

"Ginny, really."

"Fawkes' friends have to be seventeen." Ginny's smile was bitter. "I didn't understand so well why you were angry, Harry, until the Department of Mysteries, and now, the Battle of Hogsmeade. Whether they want us to or not, we're fighting this war and…"

Harry brushed her hand. "It's okay, Ginny. I understand."

"I know you do." Ginny's eyes rested on Hermione. "What made you see?"

"My parents."

Ginny looked confused.

"I'm not officially seventeen until September."

"So that's why --"

"Yes." Hermione nodded, because there were some things they did not want to talk about in public, especially not with Death Eaters in the room. "I feel handicapped by the label of _child_. The Headmaster wants us to be kids, and I can appreciate that, but there isn't time for it. If I am a child today, I'll be one tomorrow. Seventeen isn't some kind of magical number where suddenly you can take care of yourself or are competent to fight."

Neville nodded his agreement with that, along with Luna. "Age helps, though."

"Yeah. But doesn't that mean we should be guided instead of being packed in cotton wool?" asked Ron. "We're never out of it, be it choice or fate. Shielding us puts us in greater danger."

Ginny nodded.

"So." Harry looked a bit sheepish. "Do you stand with me?"

Ginny's eyes grew wide and she looked at Hermione. "I stand for what is right and just. I stand with Harry Potter."

For a moment all of the baubles gleamed, pale golden light moving from them into their holders.

"Oh!" Hermione shuddered lightly, goosebumps rising over her arms.

"Now you can always get to my safe place, without me there to open the Wards." Harry grinned. "I know that you two can't Apparate yet, but you're keyed."

"Isn't that dangerous if we're captured?"

"Once you put that on, you won't be able to take it off, unless you are willingly abandoning me and my cause. If you are, the magic will fade to nothing. The wards are set so that if you're being coerced in any way, including the Imperious, you won't be able to enter and they'll block all tracking spells."

Hermione nodded. "That must have taken a lot of work."

"The set up wasn't so bad, although the nested charms were a right bitch. The horror of it was when I completed them this morning."

Hermione stared at him. "Oh, dear."

"Oh, dear?" Ron looked faintly murderous. "Next time you want to do that much spellwork, Harry, I want you to make sure you've an anchor and a source."

"Next time? I should hope I've no need of one."

"There is that." Ron laughed. "That said, anyone for dessert?"

They pelted him with their napkins.

----

Author's Note:

The poem, of course, is _The New Colossus_ by Emma Lazarus.

Some, I expect, would disagree with using what is, of course, a notoriously American symbol for Hermione. And they'd be right if they're looking at it from that point of view. I can't claim to know how anyone else views Lady Liberty, but to _me_ she is everything that is bright about my country. She represents freedom in a visceral way that I think that Harry would be able to appreciate.

Hermione takes unpopular stands in regards to what she thinks is just or right or fair, despite derision and ridicule. She is the mighty woman with the torch, a beacon of light. Hermione is the first character in any of the novels to recognize that there is something inherently wrong in a society that employs a slave race and she opposes it with all of her juvenile might. Her fervor and desire to get the elves to rise up is, admittedly, a little ridiculous. Dobby is obviously an exception to the rule of desired servitude that other house elves show. Hermione would do better crusading to change laws so House Elves must have better treatment (for example, punishing themselves for trivial offenses or being turned out for things they themselves had no control over), in my opinion. Still, her desire to do what is _right_ and what is _just_ in the face of overwhelming indifference or opposition is remarkable.

I think this epitomizes some of the symbolism of the statue: freedom for the oppressed, the undervalued, and the unwanted. So it is that I have Harry honoring Hermione with Lady Liberty for those traits he sees in her.


End file.
